


Sparks Fly

by irishavalon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x19 coda, But He Gets Better, Dean adopts Miracle because of course he does, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I'm in love with this dog, M/M, Miracle is Dean's emotional support animal, Miracle is a very good boy, Miracle the dog, Post 15x19, Reunions, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27562135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishavalon/pseuds/irishavalon
Summary: "The beer in his mouth tastes like the last time Cas died, and the last time, and the time before that. The sky is like his eyes and the wind through the trees sounds like those wings that used to follow Dean, those wings that used to precede Cas’s arrival. The smallest things have Dean tumbling into that vortex of his memory labeled ‘Castiel’: a bee buzzing past as Dean gets out of the car, a trenchcoat in any color on anyone, the scent that hangs in the air just after a rainstorm."--------Post 15x19 coda because where the hell is Cas.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 151





	Sparks Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, folks. (Clowns? Are we calling ourselves clowns now? Are we owning that?) So here's the thing. I watched the last three episodes, but before that I haven't watched since probably season 13. As a result, I've kept most of the plot from the last couple seasons out of this, because I don't really understand it and I don't want to get anything incorrect. I just used the details I'm pretty certain on, and looked up a few of the more foggy details. That being said, it's very possible that I got a few minor details incorrect about the last couple years and I'm sorry for that in advance. So this is your warning to proceed with caution, although I'm pretty sure I got most things correct. Anyway, 15x18 broke me and I really, really love Dean's new dog. Enjoy!

Everything is back to normal, if a little more… _more_. The sun shines a little brighter, the sky is a little bluer, the grass and trees a little greener.

And _everything_ reminds him of Cas.

It’s been that way before, the countless times Cas died or was taken from him. If his brain wasn’t too foggy and his eyes too blurred from alcohol, he didn’t stop thinking about him, seeing him, remembering him.

Somehow, this time is so much worse.

No, not somehow. It’s worse because it’s different. Cas loves him, and no one, not even Jack, can save him, and Cas was taken and Dean couldn’t process fast enough to reply. Cas loves him and the Empty took him without knowing Dean loves him _back_.

The beer in his mouth tastes like the last time Cas died, and the last time, and the time before that. The sky is like his eyes and the wind through the trees sounds like those wings that used to follow Dean, those wings that used to precede Cas’s arrival. The smallest things have Dean tumbling into that vortex of his memory labeled ‘Castiel’: a bee buzzing past as Dean gets out of the car, a trenchcoat in any color on anyone, the scent that hangs in the air just after a rainstorm.

He calls Cas’s phone and listens to his voicemail over and over and over. Hell, sometimes even the way Miracle looks at him-- big, dark eyes, cocked head, clearly listening to his every word-- sends him spiralling. If Sam’s in the room, Dean leaves it. If he’s not, Dean smothers his tears in Miracle’s coat. Miracle, for his part, lets him.

People trickle in and out of their lives for the next few weeks, either over the phone or stopping by the bunker for a drink and company. Jody and Donna call, and Sam and Dean talk to them and the girls. Claire (unsurprisingly) asks after Cas, and Sam gracefully takes control of the conversation, briefly and gently explaining to her what happened so Dean doesn’t have to. Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and drains his beer. At the end of the call, Claire tells Dean she’s sorry about Cas. Shocked both by her kindness and the grief that overtakes him at her words, he stammers out his thanks and excuses himself from the room. Miracle trails after him. “Good boy,” he murmurs shakily. Miracle wags his tail.

Bobby visits for a few hours. He berates Dean a bit for the binge drinking, but he doesn’t seem surprised. When he tries to ask about Cas, Sam shakes his head pointedly. Dean’s grateful but annoyed. But when Sam leaves the room when Eileen calls, Bobby rips the band-aid off.

“Your brother might be treating you like glass, but I’m not going to. I’m gonna ask you how you’re doing, but Sam’s already told me about the alcohol and I can see it for myself, so I don’t want any bullshit, you hear? I’ve known you since you were a boy, practically raised you. I’ve seen you when you lose someone you care about, hell, I’ve seen you when you lost Cas before. Even in the beginning, you reacted like this. So you’re gonna be honest with me. How are you doing?”

Dean opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying to speak around the lump that’s crept back up. He takes a drink from his beer nervously. Bobby’s eyes are intense but concerned. Miracle plops his head in Dean’s lap. Dean reaches down to scratch his head. “I’m falling apart, Bobby,” he says, voice soft from the honesty, from the pain, cracking towards the end. He swallows again. “I’m trying to hold it together, for Sam, for everyone else, for me, but I’m drowning. Everything… _everything_ hurts. Without him. I can’t focus long enough on anything, not even getting blackout drunk. And I know I’ve lost him before, and it always felt like the last time, but he always came back. But I know he can’t now. I’m trying my _damnedest_ to move on, to keep going, but I’m drowning.” He sniffs and wipes impatiently at his eyes.

“I know,” Bobby says, his voice gentle, soft. “I know it hurts. I know it’s hard. I’m not forcing you to move on. That’ll take time. He was important to you. And that’s hard to let go of.”

“He was my best friend.”

“I know.”

“I… he said he loved me.” It’s the first time Dean says it out loud. He can’t look at Bobby, so he looks aimlessly towards the hallway--and there’s Sam. Well, at least he won’t have to say it twice. He takes a deep breath and clarifies. “Not like family. Not like a brother. I had no idea.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Bobby says, gruff tone back in his voice. Dean flinches involuntarily at the shift.

“What?”

“Twelve years of him staring at you, twelve years of him saying your name like it was a goddamn _benediction_ ,” Bobby starts. He takes a breath, seemingly more than ready to continue, but Sam cuts in, walking back to the table.

“Twelve years of him coming the moment you call him, of sacrificing or trying to sacrifice himself for you, of angels and demons and everyone in between _telling you to your face_ that he loves you, and you had _no idea_.”

“I know! I _know_! You don’t think I’ve been cursing myself for _weeks_ for being so goddamn stupid not to notice? If I’d noticed sooner, he wouldn’t have had to hide it. He wouldn’t have had to hold onto it until it was the only way to save me. He would have known that I---” It’s too much. He can’t say it, not even now. What does it matter anyway? Cas doesn’t know. Cas didn’t know and he’ll never know because he’s dead. And he died thinking he was alone in feeling like this. He died thinking he couldn’t have the one thing he wanted, what he’d wanted for years. It seems so obvious to Dean now, how Cas had felt about him. Over the last few weeks, Dean had thought back, though it hurt, over his long relationship with Cas, trying to find a moment, a turning point, that might have been the moment Cas fell in love with him. He couldn’t find a moment. No, that wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t find _one, single_ moment. There were dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands, of moments, in which Cas could have started to feel more than a friendship or acquaintance or obligation to Dean.

And to Dean, that feels worse. That there isn’t a single moment. For all he knows, what Chuck and Hester had said to him is true: that the moment Cas touched his broken and frayed soul in Hell, he had fallen in love. It is worse because the answer to how long could easily be _always_. It is worse because Dean can’t find a single moment when _he’d_ started to…. _Always_. It’s a terrifying thought, on both sides. But it feels right, fitting. But Cas is dead and it doesn’t matter when either of them realized, because Cas will never know, and Dean will never be able to tell him.

“I _know_ , Dean.” Sam says softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I think Cas probably knew, too.”

Dean pulls away. “No, he didn’t! He didn’t know! He said, he said the one thing he wanted, he couldn’t have. And I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even tell him he was wrong.”

Bobby stays until the tears stop. Sam clears the beer bottles and Bobby stands, pulling on his coat. Dean stays in his chair until Bobby forces him up and into a hug. Bobby pats Miracle’s head for a moment and then speaks. “It’ll be okay, Dean. I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, and you don’t have to believe me. I wouldn’t listen to anyone who told me that after my wife died. I think I even threatened to shoot someone who did. But it got better. It got...easier to deal with. We’ll just have to see what life brings, all right?”

Dean nods numbly, and lets Bobby hug him again. Bobby squats down, murmuring to Miracle and scratching him behind his ears. Dean pretends not to hear what Bobby tells the dog. “You watch out for my boys, understand? Especially this son of a gun. You think you can do that, buddy? There’s a good boy.” Miracle thumps his tail against the linoleum floor happily. Bobby stands back up when Sam walks in, and Sam takes him to the door while Dean sinks back down heavily into his chair. Miracle pads over to him and Dean scratches the dog absently. Dean hears Bobby and Sam murmuring in the doorway, but can’t hear what they’re saying. He guesses Bobby is telling Sam something similar to what he told the dog. Like Miracle, Dean doubts Sam needs to be told.

Two days later, Eileen comes to visit. Sam greets her at the door, lifting her up and spinning her around until she laughs, high and clear and alive. Dean does his best to be happy for them.

They come down the stairs into the war room. “Hello, Dean,” Eileen says. Dean greets her back. Miracle comes padding over, wagging his tail and eager to meet someone new. Eileen smiles and bends down to pet him. “Well, hello there. Who are you?” She looks up at Sam, who finger-spells ‘Miracle.’

Miracle lets her pet him for a few minutes, at one point glancing back at Dean and almost looking like he was smiling. Dean would feel almost jealous, if not for the fact that he’s a _dog_. He just gives Miracle a small smile back.

They sit at the table and visit for a few hours. Dean makes burgers and Sam pours the wine Eileen brought. It feels almost normal, but Dean across the room can just see the wooden table in the library, where just a few weeks ago he and Sam carved in two more names, the two that are missing.

Dean feeds Miracle burger scraps to distract himself when Sam isn’t looking.

After dinner, Sam and Eileen go to his room. Dean isn’t sure if they’re going to talk or make out. He’s happy for them either way, even if that happiness stings a little. Sam looks at Dean nervously as he stands in the doorway, as if afraid to leave Dean to his thoughts. Dean forces a laugh and shoos him. “I’ll search for a case or watch conspiracy theories on YouTube or something. I found one about us last week; it was ridiculous. I’ll be _fine_.” Miracle walks over and sits down beside Dean’s chair, looking up at Dean and practically grinning, and then looking at Sam. Dean nods at the dog. “Miracle won’t let anything happen to me.” Miracle wags his tail, as if in agreement, and Dean gestures at the dog to prove his point. Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“You have a weird relationship with that dog,” he says as he turns and walks away.

“I’ll have you know Miracle is very intelligent!” Dean calls back. He hears Sam’s laugh as it echoes down the hallway. Dean looks at Miracle. “So, pup,” he says as he opens the laptop; Miracle cocks his head. “Do you think Jack brought back the vamps?”

Dean doesn’t know how long it’s been. At some point, the words on the screen had started to blur together, and it wasn’t from alcohol. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. He’d only slept a few hours the previous night, before dreaming of Castiel’s death again, and no longer being able to sleep after that. He’d stayed up the rest of the night, watching videos and listening to classic rock on his phone and combing a lapful of Miracle.

His head is on his arms, which rest on the table. He blinks dazedly, still half asleep, and sits up, checking his watch. It’s only been two hours since Sam and Eileen left the room. He rubs his eyes and stretches, trying to wake up. He closes the laptop, and then jumps in his seat, staring. There’s a post-it note on the table, with writing on it that hadn’t been there two hours ago.

_“Pontiac, Ill._  
_November 19_  
_10am_  
_-Jack”_

Dean stares at the handwriting for a long moment, trying to convince himself it’s a prank. But the only people in the bunker would never hurt him like this, and Miracle doesn’t have any thumbs. It’s real. Jack was here.

“Jack?” Dean says aloud. There’s no response. The rest of the message slowly begins to make sense to Dean, and he grabs his phone, opening the GPS as fast as he can. He types in the locations: Pontiac, IL and Lebanon, KS. 10 hours. It’s 11:38pm. If they don’t get a move on, they won’t make it.

Dean grabs the note and launches himself out of the chair, sprinting for Sam’s room. “Sam! Sam!” Sam’s door flies open before Dean reaches it, and Sam and Eileen stumble out. They’re fully clothed, thankfully, but looking startled.

“Dean? What is it?” Sam demands. Dean shoves the note in his face.

“I fell asleep and Jack left a note. We have to go to Pontiac, _now_. I-- I think it has something to do with Cas.”

Sam takes the note, reading it with wide eyes, then passes it to Eileen. He signs a few words to Eileen. Dean recognizes Cas’s name sign, and assumes he’s translating. Dean was speaking very fast, and not exactly looking at Eileen head-on.

“What’s in…” Sam starts before trailing off.

“The barn,” Dean says. “The barn where Bobby and I summoned Cas. The night we met.” Dean looks at Eileen apologetically; he knows the signs for about three of the words he said. Eileen looks at Sam, who translates rapidly. Dean vows to learn more sign language.

“We have to go.” Dean says. He signs it; he’s seen Sam and Eileen sign those words before, so he knows what it looks like. Their lives always have so much urgency.

“Dean, we can’t just leave.” Sam says and signs.

“Why not?” Dean asks, the sign forceful and demanding.

“We have a dog! Miracle can’t take care of himself if we just take off.”

Of course. Dean glances down at the dog at his side.

“I’ll watch him,” Eileen says. “You two go.”

“Are you sure?” both men ask at the same time.

“ _Yes_.” She insists. “If there’s even a _chance_ you can get Castiel back, you should take it.” She says it to Dean, a small smile on her face. _Sam better keep her,_ Dean thinks. _She’s perfect._

 _Thank you_ , he signs, choking on the spoken words. He reaches out to give her a hug and kiss her cheek. He turns and walks away to give them time to say good-bye, gathering anything he thinks they might need. Phone, charger, gun, knife, angel blade, random spell components. He packs a flask, just in case Cas doesn’t-- he won’t let himself think that. Just in case.

Sam and Eileen enter the war room, Miracle at their heels. Miracle sees the bag on Dean’s back, and shuffles his feet, whining a little. Dean sighs, kneeling down and clicking his tongue. Miracle comes to him and he scratches the dog’s face.

“Shh, buddy,” he whispers. “I’ll be back soon, okay? You be good for Eileen. We’re gonna bring home another friend for you. How does that sound? You’ll love him.” _It’s hard not to_ , Dean adds in his head. He swallows and pushes away the doubts, the fears. He needs this. He’s willing to do anything Jack needs him to. Anything to get Cas back, to see him again, to hold him, to finally tell him that he was _wrong_ , he can have what he wants. He can have _Dean_. He always could.

Miracle licks his face, and Dean grimaces. “Hey, stop that,” he says, wiping his cheek and pretending to be disgusted. He’s not.

He stands. “Thank you again, Eileen,” he tells her.

“Don’t mention it. Go get your angel, Winchester.” She says.

Dean nods. Sam kisses her, and then they leave the bunker.

“How long is the drive?” Sam asks.

“GPS says 10 hours. 8, if I can help it.”

“Just don’t get us arrested, dude.”

The sun is high in the sky over the field as Dean drives them up the dirt road to the old barn. It looks worse in the light, but it’s been twelve years, too. The clock on the dash reads 9:58 as Dean cuts the engine.

“Have you been here since that night?” Sam asks. Dean shakes his head; his heart is in his throat as he grabs the duffel from the backseat. Sam pulls open the door and Dean steps in.

Dust motes float in the sunlight that filters in from the spaces between the rotting boards and hay rustles underfoot. The air smells musty. Dean takes in the old sigils painted on the walls, the dusty, half-burned candles on the benches, the buckshot and shell casings on the chipped, concrete floor. For a moment, he’s back there, can smell the wax burning from those candles and the leftover aerosol from the black spray paint, can hear Bobby reading the summoning spell, can see the lights flashing and the sparks flying and the shadow of broad, black wings against the whitewashed planks of the walls.

_I am Castiel._

_You don’t think you deserve to be saved?_

“This is romantic.” Sam says sarcastically, glancing around.

“Shut up,” Dean mutters, checking his watch nervously. 9:59. Sometimes he forgets that Sam wasn’t there, by his side, summoning this unknown, powerful being with him. Sam met Cas later, and has never seen the barn where it all began. Not until now.

“Hey.”

Dean and Sam turn. Jack stands in the doorway, looking radiant in his new position as sort-of God, but also just the same.

“Jack.” Sam says.

Jack smiles. “I figured out a way to get Cas out of the Empty, but I need your help. As… God,” he grimaces at the name, and continues, “I can’t go into the Empty, but I can lead a ritual. I need you to help me set it up, and maybe to give the ritual a little extra push. The Empty isn’t going to want to give him up easily, and we might need some help from Cas to get him out.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks.

“Well,” Jack starts, gesturing around, “For one, I chose a location that is meaningful to Cas and can serve as a tether to what he’s left on earth. He told me once about how you met. With my new… abilities, it wasn’t hard to find the place. Also, I think the Empty’s going to fight back. And it’s not going to be nice about it. I think it’ll probably try to undermine what we’re doing here, convince Cas to stay in the Empty. I need you to counter the Empty’s argument.”

“How?”

“Prayer,” Sam says, figuring it out faster than Dean. “He listens to you, Dean. He always has. The Empty’s not going to be able to lie to him if he can hear you keeping the truth in his head. That he’s wanted, that he’s cared for, that he’s needed here.”

“Okay,” Dean turns back to Jack. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Sam and Jack set up the sigils, and then Jack begins the ritual. Dean tries to think of what he could possibly say to get Cas to ignore the Empty’s taunts, to lead him to the portal and back home. He knows what he needs to say, but he’s not sure he can do it. But he has to.

Dean watches the bubbling black hole tear through the air in front of him as the portal opens. Jack shuts his eyes as he ends the incantation; Dean can see the kid’s eyes glowing behind his eyelids.

“Castiel.” Jack says, and his voice echoes through the barn. “Castiel. Wake up. It is time to come home.”

Dean hears a distant, hissing yell. “The Empty is angry.” Jack tells them. “Castiel. Wake up. Wake up _now_.”

Jack opens his eyes then; Dean can’t catch his breath. Jack turns to Dean, though his eyes are still glowing bright. “He’s awake. Pray now. Pray to him.”  
Dean nods and swallows.

“Cas,” he says gruffly, trying to forget Jack and Sam are in the barn with him, pretending it’s just him and Cas. “You better have your ears on, man. This is important.

“Whatever the Empty is telling you right now, you gotta stop listening. It’s not true. It wants to keep you there, so it’s lying to you, and it knows it’s lying.”

He hears the distant screaming. “Not good enough,” Jack says. “Keep talking.”

“All right, all right.” Dean closes his eyes, focusing inward, listening to the words his heart has been trying to tell him for years. He tries to be the man Cas says he is. Brave and kind and selfless and loving. _Love. He loves Cas, maybe always has_. He focuses on that love, and wills himself to let it out, to unlock that box in his heart where he’s kept it for so long.

“Cas, I need you to know. You changed me, too. Maybe I am everything you say I am, but it’s _because_ of you. You’ve always challenged me and kept me honest and true and patient. I’m who I am because I know you. And I _know_ you, Cas. The Empty doesn’t. I know that you are brave and blunt and that you care so much it’s driven you almost to madness sometimes. I know that when you were human you loved peanut butter and jelly and hated pie, and I don’t know if I can forgive you for that very wrong opinion, but I’ll allow you to be entitled to it. I know you’re shit at insults, but ‘assbutt’ is almost endearing anyway. You have an unhealthy attachment to that trenchcoat, but it suits you and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know sometimes I meet your eyes and I just know you aren’t looking at my face but at my soul, and it’s unnerving but amazing to me that I’m interesting enough for you to want to look at me so deeply. I know that you love so deeply that I’m an idiot not to have seen it before. You love so deeply that angels and demons and monsters and even humans can sense it. You’ve given up everything for the world, for Sam and Jack, for me. And your brothers and sisters and God himself have all told you that it’s a fault, but it’s not. It’s beautiful. It’s who you are. And I--”

Dean breaks, falling to his knees, tears spilling over and flowing down his face. _Why hasn’t he come back yet? Where is he? Maybe Dean isn’t enough._ He keeps trying, though. He knows Cas is listening, he can _feel_ it. And whatever happens, Cas deserves to know. “Cas, I’m so sorry I just stood there like an idiot. You were pouring your heart out and risking everything to admit it, and I said nothing. All I could say was ‘don’t do this,’ and I’m so scared you think I was telling you not to tell me you love me. That’s not what I meant. I knew I was losing you, that I was losing you _again_ , and I was terrified of that. I was trying to beg you not to summon the Empty, not to sacrifice yourself, because,” his entire body shudders with a sob, and he continues, his voice shaking like a leaf, “because I didn’t want to lose you again. Because I love you, too, Cas. And I’m so sorry I’ve been too much of a coward and an idiot to tell you that when I had the chance. Please come back. Anything the Empty says is a bunch of lies. I love you. I need you. Come home. _Please_.”

He bows his head, hands practically clasped. He’s out of words. It will have to be enough.

And then the portal ripples and rumbles and two hands reach out. Dean can’t move, but Jack and Sam spring into action, rushing to the portal and each grabbing one arm and pulling. In a moment, Cas is stumbling out of the Empty, in front of Dean. Jack shuts the portal with a word before Cas can lose his balance and fall back in. They help him steady himself. He thanks them. Dean is still on the floor, staring up at Cas’s perfect, wonderful, beautiful face, unable to look away. Distantly, he feels the tears still streaming down his face, but all he sees is Cas. Cas can’t seem to look away from him, either. Sam and Jack move away, out of sight, but Dean barely registers them.

“Cas.” Dean breathes, and it feels like the first inhale after holding your breath, like coming home after years away, like the world once more beginning to turn.

“Dean.” Cas says, in the same tone. And then Cas is on his knees, too, and he’s saying, “I heard you. Every word. You saved me. Thank you.”  
Dean reaches desperately for Cas, and it feels like an unbearable eternity before his hands close the small space between them, clutching the lapels of Cas’s trenchcoat and pulling him closer. His hands, shaking, move up to cradle Cas’s face when the angel is close enough. “I love you. Cas, I love you so much.”

“I know. I love you, too. _Dean_.” And then Cas is weeping, too, and clutching Dean’s jacket, and gazing at him with the most radiant smile on his face. And he’s saying Dean’s name over and over and over, like it’s the most beautiful word in the world.

“Cas.” Dean says once, and then his throat closes and he can’t say anything else. So he closes the mere inches between them and kisses him, one word in his mind. _Finally_.

Lights flash behind Dean’s eyes, sparks fly in his mind as his lips finally press against Cas’s. He feels the hay and concrete beneath his jeans, and the trenchcoat under his palms feels the same as it has these last twelve years. It began here, in this barn, all those years ago. And now?

_We get to write the ending._


End file.
